


him.

by moltenvintagelacedress



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Homophobic Language, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sad Ending, Slurs, Suicide, blame halsey tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moltenvintagelacedress/pseuds/moltenvintagelacedress
Summary: It was a single, solitary moment in the front seat of a car. Breaths mingling and fingers pulling at hair, with one thought in Victor's mind.'Would it kill you if we kissed.'





	

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy reading, it was mainly inspired by drive, written by halsey. tbh I don't rly like her music but I got heavy VICTUURI feels when I was listening to it early.
> 
> this is not beta'd, I apologize.

It was always him. Yuuri hadn't ever completely, truly and entirely accepted the fact that it was Victor he was skating for, it was Victor who he wanted to prove everything to until it was far, far too late. Far too late to apologize for their last meeting.

Victor was always making passes at him, he knew it, but he didn't have neither enough confidence nor enough of a feeling he wanted more with Victor to actually say anything about it, until they were driving back from the competition. Until the entire dynamic changed.

He believed the catalyst was when Victor rested his hand on Yuuri's thigh. For a moment, he didn't acknowledge it. He doesn't know why, exactly. Every night he reminds himself he should've acted faster, differently. He should've denied both of them the right, of sorts, to do anything.

But than, after a few, stiffiling absolutely fucking still seconds full of unsaid words, denied feelings- he slapped Victor. He slapped Victor and pulled over in an absolute dense moment, Victor in shock and Yuuri, well- Yuuri was in panic.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," The raven haired boy repeated, taking Victor's face in his hands. His cold fingers brushed over his eyes, over his pale eyebrows and lingering on his lips.

They looked at each other slowly and, ever so hesitantly, they got closer. Foreheads resting on one another, eyes closed and breaths rushed, slowly turning white as the car got cold. Hands brushing against chins, shoulders, hair. It was all feverish, hurried. But still, never kissing.

"I can't do this," Yuuri whispered, voice breaking. "I can't. I shouldn't. I won't kiss you."

Victor didn't reply. He opened his eyes, his cerulean eyes patched with obvious hurt and want.

"I do not know why I slapped you Victor, and I am so, so, so goddamn sorry. Involuntary response, I suppose. But I won't kiss you. I'm not fucking gay. I'm not. I'm not."

Yuuri said it to himself like a mantra, deluding his senses into an intoxicating feeling of rightness. He is straight, he knows it. Knew. He thought he fucking knew that he hadn't fallen in love with his goddamn coach, he trusted himself every single fucking moment he allowed himself to think of his future with Victor, trusted the fact there wasn't one besides his skating career.

He was so, utterly, captivatingly wrong. Victor was his- his soul mate. The other part of him. The part of them that shouldn't have gone.

Yuuri replays the part of the night that changed every single thing. The moment Victor looked straight at Yuuri's eyes, the moment a feeling of want washed over him- that sparked every thing. The space between them became nonexistent in an instant, and soon their lips were touching. It was as if time had stopped.

He laughed at how cliche it was, now. Except, he couldn't really, because what happened next made him sick to his stomach.

Yuuri was the one to pull away. He started the car, only to bring some heat into the car maybe to try to make the absolutely shivering words he was about to spit at Victor less so.  
,  
"I'm not fucking gay." It was a statement, a proclamation. No room to argue. "Victor, I won't kiss you because I refuse to like you. I refuse to only ever be known for being a faggot."

Victor had flinched at the slur Yuuri had unintentionally said. It was flippant, maybe not a slip of the tongue. But he knows he didn't mean it.

"I'm sorry Victor..." Yuuri said for the umpteenth time that night. The last time he'd ever get to.

The entire time, Victor stayed silent. Didn't try to fight with him, didn't try to understand why in the fucking world Yuuri said he wasn't gay yet there were times Victor thought he was nothing but. There was nothing that would change the boys mind, and Victor knew this.

Yuuri received the phone call approximately a week after their argument. They hadn't been practicing- Yuuri needed a break, and Victor had decided to return to Russia for some alone time. It was a suprise of sorts, considering it had never crossed his mind that he had actually made such an impact on Victor that night.

It'd been the other Yuri's voice that replied after accepting the call. His voice wasn't its usual menacing and cutting tone. Yuuri had thought vaguely he'd been crying before hand.

"He's fucking dead." As soon as the words hit his ear, Yuri's voice had broken. "He left a letter. It was addressed to you."

He'd ended the call right there. Walked out of the hot springs. And started running, barreling down to the rink. Tears flooded his eyes as the plain, cold and shitty truth hit him.

Victor Nikiforov had committed suicide.

The rest of it blurred together- getting a flight to Russia, having Yuri throwing the letter into his face while screaming obscenities and 'you fucking did this to him, you bastard' repeatedly over and over and over again. Funeral plans made, reporters sticking microphones in his face as he glided past, not truly gathering what was going on.

Victor had committed suicide because of him.

He knew it before he opened the letter. He could just feel the weight of the words on the pages, the guilt and the blame and the regret. It's why he avoided opening it for so, so long. Because he knew whatever was written was true. Every single fucking word and letter in that envelope pointed the blame to Yuuri, and he couldn't deal with being the one who pushed his idol to the edge. His crush. His entire purpose.

Months after every thing, still absolutely numb and floaty, he opened the letter. It was an unceremonious ordeal, ripping the envelope, grabbing the papers that were folded neatly inside. Yuuri vaguely recognised Victor's sent- musky and sharp, reminding him of cold, snowy days that bit your nose if you were out in it too long.

The letter itself wasn't all-too fantastic either. Not an opening, just... jumping right in to the encompassing truth that was the night that happened in the car.

'I didn't mean to.  
I was simply curious, Yuuri. Curious to how you'd respond, wondering why you so viciously refused to do anything remotely affectionate. I didn't realise it was because you were so afraid. '

The letter went on to talk about his entire thought process, how he wasn't necessarily hurt by the entire night. Just simply, tired. Tired of not being able to do anything about his feelings towards him, how he couldn't fucking deal with coaching him for God knows how long with his overwhelming feeling of deep, undeniable love to Yuuri.

'For the record, I didn't mean to fall for you. I never, ever wanted to hurt you this way. It just... it changed before I could do anything. From inspiration to love from love to lust to truth. It changed before I could do a damn thing.  
You, Yuuri, can love. You can be loved and love them back. I'm so, so sorry. I hope one day you can be loved by someone you can love back.  
I wish it could've been me.'

That was when Yuuri folded up the letter. Put it away in a drawer, far, far away and imagined. He imagined himself getting married one day, having kids. Living a domestic life with some average girl and having a simple life, after he retired. And after every fucking scenario, all he could think about was how he wished it was Victor.

It was always him. It was always his brilliant eyes and his over-enthusiastic first meeting of Yuuri and the way he could say every thing and nothing at the same time. It was always how at the end of the day, he wasn't imagining a katsudon when he skated- he was imagining Victor.

When push came to shove, it was always his blue eyes that always came to mind. The ones that he would never see again. The ones that would never be able to get out of his mind.

And the fact he's the one that did that... Yuuri couldn't forgive himself.

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY EISISID UGH the ending is shit but I NEED TO SLEEP BUT I NEED TO POST THIS SJSIDIF  
> thanks for reading lmao leave a kudos and some comments I appreciate u goodnight


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